


Leave Me

by Daerwyn



Series: A Collection of A Song of Ice and Fire Drabbles [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Implied abuse, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Mentions of Rape, Past Abuse, Physical Abuse, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Violence, implied rape, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-17 02:06:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11265717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daerwyn/pseuds/Daerwyn
Summary: The Reader is Robb Stark's sister, and married to Joffrey in place of Sansa. After Joffrey decides to have his fun, she is found by the Hound.“Don’t be stupid, I’m not leaving you.”Originally posted on my Tumblr - DaenerysKhalasar





	Leave Me

The gruff man had promised you a number of times that it was the last time he would do this. This carrying business that he insisted was none of his own. It was just necessary to get from point A to point B, and that the special treatment would end either when you bled out or when you were healed enough to walk.

“Bloody fucking arrows,” Sandor muttered. “Couldn’t even try to get away from them, could you?”

It didn’t matter how many times you reminded him that you had been hit while defending him, it was still your fault. So, while your leg was still tender and sore from healing - and the stitching of the wound - he had swung you over his shoulder and started walking, despite your very firm and appalled protests.

Though, you would be lying if you said you didn’t mind the view.

Because it was quite nice - very nice, in fact.

When you two settled for the night, he would set you down gently, probably the most gentle he had been with anyone, and would gruffly pass you the blanket that would be draped over the shoulder he carried you. It was to keep you warm, and he had his own essentials that kept him warm.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, again, for what felt like the hundredth time. He just grunted something in return, and set to making the fire. For a man that hated the fire, he was very swift with making it. Not spending too much time building the flame, not taking any extra steps. He got it started and he would step back until it caught.

Food was something you two would go without tonight. Which was fine, there was always hope for tomorrow, but when Sandor wasn’t given any food, he was more unbearable than ever. And you, probably, weren’t any better.

Despite your stomach growling, you found a comfortable, relatively rock free, patch of land to lay down in. He was sitting on a fallen log, staring into the fire with an expression of annoyance. And absolute ferocity. You watched him as you tugged the blanket close, and either he didn’t know you were staring, or he didn’t care (though the latter was something you doubted).

He could be handsome, you decided. And he likely would have been, if his brother hadn’t ruined his face with fire. There was a part of him that you knew would never forgive anyone for any of their “shit” but also a softness that found more sympathy with those being tormented than he cared to admit. You had seen it, in King’s Landing with your sister, Sansa. And then, realizing that you, the twin sister of Robb Stark, were more leverage to end the war than little Sansa, you had been given the attention of the King - the marriage to the King.

Found bleeding, broken, and sobbing, sitting in a ball in the halls of the Red Keep, in a corner tucked away from where you thought no one would find you, Sandor had. He had seen the bruises, the cuts on your cheek from where Joffrey had harmed you. He had stood there as you tried to clean up your tears, and as you pitifully made up an excuse, he had said he didn’t care to hear it, offered you his cloak, and promptly pulled you from the alcove and taken you down the stairs.

You had left Sansa, had regretted that decision every day, wondered if she had taken your place, or if she would be granted some reprieve. You knew Joffrey was sending men after you - the proof was the arrow wound in your thigh. But what was he doing to her?

And yet, not once did Sandor try to turn back, to offer you as a bargaining chip. Nor did he answer why he had taken you away. You had asked plenty in the beginning.

All you had gotten for any answer was, “Two Stark girls is more to look after than one. We’ll head to the Wall, where your bastard brother is, and figure shit out from there.”

Sandor’s intentions so far were noble, but you knew any Sellsword could be bought if the price was high enough. And if you were so valuable, anyone would be after you. You just hoped that your mother and brother would be safe where they were, their war only escalating with news of your marriage.

You closed your eyes quickly as Sandor shifted, feeling his eyes on you with your forced steady breaths. And then suddenly you heard the sound of footsteps crunching away from the fire, away from you. Your heart began to race in panic as they reached the woods where he would surely disappear with his sword and his offer. He was leaving.

You sat up quickly, seeing him retreat, and blurted out before you could stop yourself, “Don’t leave.” He froze. “I… I’ll walk tomorrow. Please, just don’t leave me out here alone.”

**"Don't be stupid, I'm not leaving you,**  girl.” The gruff return came even when his body didn’t turn back to you. You dropped your gaze when he finally did turn, embarrassment flooding your cheeks. “I’m fucking hungry, you’re hungry. I’m going to look for some bloody food. I thought you were sleeping?”

“I… No, thinking.”

His scowl only deepened. “She’s too young for any of that shit, we both know that, but the guards she has at her door wouldn’t have let you get her out.”

You knew. You knew that, but it didn’t make it right - it didn’t make it fair. “And where was my guard? The guard stationed at my door that night?”

“Probably couldn’t stomach hearing you crying and screaming.” You swallowed. “Or found some whore to stick his cock in for the night, and didn’t think the shit would notice. Take your pick.” You didn’t know which you’d prefer. “Now, lay back down and try to sleep. I’ll find a fucking squirrel.”

As he turned back to the woods, his steps stomped into the ground and you would be surprised if he would catch anything. But you did as asked, laying back down by the fire, and ignored the throbbing in your leg as you tried to think of … of anything other than King’s Landing and your sister and the war.

And instead thought of your father, and prayed that no one would leave you as he had. No one deserved that.

 


End file.
